


this is how you remind me

by Kyoshu_Koi



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Character Death, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Everything Hurts, Langst, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, im sorry, like really heavy angst, ok its really sad actually, this is kinda sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 11:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9818558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyoshu_Koi/pseuds/Kyoshu_Koi
Summary: "It's you or them, Keith. You or them."Or the prisoner au nobody wanted





	

**Author's Note:**

> i honestly have no excuse

Time didn’t exist.

At least not to Lance. Not anymore. Not after he’d been ripped from his old life and forced into this new one. Voltron was stupid. The Galra Empire was stupid and the Altean’s were stupid and the universe was stupid and life was stupid.

Life was stupid and he was sitting in a dirty cell with the love of his life wearing prisoner’s clothes and waiting to be sent to his doom. Life was so fucking stupid.

Yet he’d never wanted in any more than he did now.

* * *

 

The arena was like nothing Lance had ever experienced.

He’d been in scrimmages with ten soldiers at one, battling for his life, he’d nearly died more times than he could count, he’d watched planet after planet succumb to Hagger’s magic, he’d mercilessly put civilians out of their misery, he’d watched as mothers and their children were shot down in one fell swoop, he’d been there when the Galra had crucified an entire species and paraded them though the troops base camp before a battle.

He’d seen many horrors in his life, dealt with many things, too many things. But nothing, nothing in his life could have ever prepared him for the arena.

It was blood sweat and tears. So so so many tears.

It being torn from your sleep and listening as Keith screamed for them to bring you back as you were shoved into a cart full of people and rolled into a stadium filled to the brim with blood lust.

It was standing in line shaking like a dog and waiting to be called forwards. It was fighting for your life while thousands of people looked on, watching and waiting and betting on how fast your head would roll.

It was nearly dying over and over and forcing yourself back up onto your feet and to the end of the line of ‘prey.’ It was watching that line dwindle over the course of a few hours. Watching body after body be carried off, listening to person after person break down and cry.

It was watching a little girl be slaughtered and an expecting mother be beheading. It was feeling a numbness in your stomach as you watched someone who’d had such a bright light in their eyes give up and sit down and let themselves be killed.

It was being yanked back to your cell and thrown to the ground, exhausted and tired and aching all over, only to watch as Keith was yanked back by the collar, only having seen Lance for a few seconds that day before he was being thrown in with other prisoners and carted away for session two of fight fest.

It was praying he’d come back, praying he’d be okay, you’d be okay.

It was reliving that day over and over until somehow, as a combined group, all the survivors killed the monsters pitted against them.

And then it was being thrown back into the arena with a child across from you and a knife in your hand and it was your life or theirs your life or theirs yourlifeortheirs.

And you chose theirs.

* * *

 

Lance didn’t know how long he and Keith fought. He didn’t know how long they’d ben captive or how long they’re survived. He didn’t even remember how they’d been captured. He knew they’d been moved twice, both because the rest of the team was a few systems away.

He’d never known what hope felt like till it was snatched from his hands.

For some odd reason, they’d been left alone for a day, forced together in the same cell, per usual. But they weren’t screaming for the guards to let the other go, they weren’t reluctantly releasing the others hand as they were dragged away, they weren’t hovering over the other to make sure they were okay for the split second that had together before they were dragged away again.

The only time they had as partners was in their sleep, huddled for warmth and for comfort.

Lance had flinched as the guards passed today, but they didn’t open the cell door, didn’t drag him up by the hair or the throat. They didn’t grope at him and grin, didn’t taunt Keith as they shoved him face first into the ground and chained him to the line of prisoners.

They didn’t do anything.

And Lance found himself holding his breath as they walked past his bars, hand intertwined with Keith’s as he locked eyes with them.

He’d get a beating for it later, he knew for certain, coming to the realization with a wince and a twitch. But for that one second he was defiant. And he was alright with that.

Their food came and they ate in silence. Keith tried to give a portion of his bread to Lance and Lance tried to give Keith some of his water and it ended with red faces and mumbled ‘no thank you’s as they turned back to their meals.

There were no plates, just a few unbreakable cups for water that were too light to do anything with. Keith tried to use it to attack a solider once, and it didn’t go well.

Lance had to stay up that entire night just to make sure Keith would wake up.

He finished his food, sliding the cup into a corner so he wouldn’t knock it over again. Keith did the same, curling up in on himself as they sat in silence, nothing but the sound of screams and the sobs of the new prisoners being brought in.

After a while Lance finally spoke up, surprised to actually hear the sound of his voice.

“Hey, uh, Keith?”

A raw voice responded with a quiet “yeah?”

“Do you, um, if we get outta this, do you wanna maybe go somewhere together? Get something to eat? Or go swimming or see a show or something? You know … like a date?”

Keith froze up, eyes opened and wide as his head turned slowly. The pure look of shock on his face was enough to kill Lance. “I … I, uh, I don’t think … um, sorry, maybe not.”

Lance swallowed the air in his mouth, nodding solemnly. “I figured. Had to try, though.”

Keith looked away, shoulders bunching up even higher in remorse.

Lance sighed, leaning back against the wall, “So … Shiro, huh?” Keith tensed up, then nodded slowly. “Yeah,” Lance laughed dryly, “guess I’d never be able to beat him.”

“I – I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be,” Lance said, “’t’s my fault, anyways, falling in love with the wrong guy and all.”

* * *

 

He hadn’t expected it. Out of all the horrors he’d scene and all the scenarios he imagined, he’d never thought that it would be Keith coming out to face him. He never thought it’d be him and Keith and their daggers and their lives.

Lance’s face fell, and so did Keith’s. And when he tried to back off, tried to turn around and leave, the guards shoved him back forwards, guns pressed to his head as they marched him our towards Lance.

It hurt watching him walk out there. It hurt seeing him beaten and broken and clinging to life like he was a child and it was his mother.

Someone announced their prisoner numbers and someone mentioned their data, how many fights they won, how many people they’re killed. And then they were being shoved at each other and Lance made a split second decision.

He raised his weapon and charged, going straight for Keith’s neck.

The said boy dodged the blow, ducking down and sliding under Lance’s legs to pop up on the other side and race towards the exit. As soon as he got close shots were fired towards him, once grazing the side of his face and one hitting the ground it front of him.

He jumped back falling on his butt just in time for Lance to bring his dagger down towards him.

Keith rolled away, popping to his feet as the blade dragged across the dirt. “You said you loved me!” he yelled, scampering away as Lance charged him.

“I do!” Lance screamed, “Why the hell do you think I’m doing this!” His eyes flicked towards the soldiers lining the arena. He’d seen far too many people slaughtered just because they wouldn’t fight each other. He grit his teeth and lunged towards Keith again, swinging his blade sloppily in his partner’s direction.

Keith ducked under Lance’s arm, dodging the sloppy blow, his body moving before his mind did as he lashed out with his knife and slashed Lance right along the side. The said boy careened forwards, grabbing Keith’s arm as he fell, tugging him down with him.

They hit the dirt in a thud, Keith rolling on top of Lance and holding out his knife to protect himself. Lance stared up at him, hair a mess, face pained as he pressed his knife closer to Lance.

He was beautiful. He was amazing. He was kind and selfless and broody and perfect and he didn’t deserve to die.

Keith didn’t deserve to die.

“Kill me,” Lance croaked out, chest heaving as he stared up at Keith. His eyes were mad, both their eyes were mad, crazed with adrenaline and fear, for themselves, for each other, for their situation.

He felt weak. Way too weak. He couldn’t move his arms and his head throbbed and the right side of his hip, the one where Keith grazed him with a knife, was going numb. It hurt. Everything hurt.

It hurt so much that it couldn’t hurt anymore.

He wanted it over and done with. He wanted this to end. He wanted to be happy and back with everyone, he wanted to be happy and back with everyone _with Keith at his side_ , but, more than that, he just wanted Keith to keep going.

To stay alive.

To stay awake.

To stay living and breathing and loving.

Lance choked on empty air. “Kill me,” he wheezed, rage filling him. The crowd roared in the distance, slurs and cheers and jarring cries filling the arena. “For fucks sake Kogane just fucking kill me!” he snapped, losing it.

He grabbed at Keith’s wrists, tugging them down, pushing his blade closer and closer towards his own heart. “Don’t be a wimp!” he snapped, voice shaking with every word, “None of us are gonna get out of here if you don’t man up!”

His hands were shaking, both their hands were shaking and Keith was raising his dagger, trying to pull it away from Lance’s chest, away from his heart, but Lance wasn’t having any of that.

“Keith-”

“No!” Keith broke in, voice cracking, “No, listen to me you idiot, I’m not going to – you can’t make me1 I won’t! I’d rather die than hurt you, no, no Lance listen to me-”

“You fucking listen to me!” Lance roared, “Listen to me, you perfect idiot, listen to me for fucking once it my life, dios mio, listen! Do your part! Man up and shove that stupid ass knife of yours into my heart and kill me! Man the fuck up, Keith. Kill me!””

Keith shook his head.

Lance saw red, releasing a hand from Keith’s wrist and rearing his arm back as far as he could before slamming in into Keith’s nose.

“Stop being a baby!” he screamed over the constant blur or sobs and screams. Keith doubled over slightly, gripping his dipping nose.

“I don’t give a fuck if you’re Galra, I don’t give a fuck if Shiro doesn’t love you back, I don’t care if your family left you and you feel alone and I don’t give a goddamn shit if you don’t feel like doing this!”

He shoved harder on Keith’s hands, feeling the tip press against his heart. “I can’t kill you and if you don’t kill me then the guards are gonna kill us both. Either way I’m gonna die you just shut up and do this!”

Keith screamed something incomprehensible, tears streaking down his face like fireworks shooting into the sky, bursting at the ends and dripping down like blood.

“You can win and escape,” Lance pressed, still seething, “You can go back to Shiro. Think about him. You can go back.”

“No!” Keith snapped, words garbled by his blood stuffed nose, ““No, not after what you told me yesterday! I’m not cruel, Lance, I can’t do this. You’re my friend, you – I – you’ve helped me through so much I just can’t-”

“You can and you will,” Lance said, squeezing Keith’s wrists before letting his arms drop to his sides. The arena as a whole was booing. “I’m gonna die either way, Keith. I’d rather die by your hands then theirs.”

Keith shook his head, grabbing Lance’s hand and pressing it close to his face.

“You or them Keith. It’s you or them.”

As if they’d heard the two boys, the Galra soldiers took a few steps into the arena, guns raised. Lance knew Keith could hear them, he always had good ears.

He opened his eyes, meeting Lance’s, then, with a deep breath, he dropped Lance’s hand. Lance gasped, dread filling his body as his arm flopped back down into the dirt.

He squeezed his eyes shut a few times, trying to decide if he wanted them open or not. He heard Keith’s breathing, listened as he sniffed and settled his dagger over Lance’s heart, listened as he put one had over and other and pushed down as hard as he could.

It hurt.

It hurt like hell.

Lance was screaming, Keith was screaming, the crowd and the prisoners and the very air itself was just screaming.

It took a few tries to get the blade buried to the hilt in Lance’s chest, each time Keith hovered over him, tears streaking and cries of “I’m sorry I’m sorry” thickening the air around him as he sat up on his knees and shoved down with all his weight.

It hurt it hurt it hurt ithurtithurtithurt it hurthurthurthurt

And then it didn’t.

It didn’t hurt at all.

There was a dull throb in his bones, like a headache after a night with no sleep.

It was …

Well, he hoped it was a white light. Or maybe some gates. Or maybe just Keith’s crying face, hovering above his own, lips forming those three words he so desperately wanted to hear back. He wanted his vision to fade to black, he wanted it to all slowly go away.

But, as he dragged in ragged breath after ragged breath, he realized that wasn’t gonna happen.

Keith sobbed louder, voice hiccuping.

And then suddenly he was being pulled of Lance screaming and shouting for the guards to get off him, to let him go back. Something tugged at his shoulders, hands gripping them tightly, a face burying itself in his neck, tears and snot spreading across his skin.

They felt almost warm compared to the cold settling in his muscles.

There was so much noise, too much noise, at least compared to the blank ceiling and unshifting crowd of people in his peripheral vision. Keith’s eyes flew into view once or twice, wet with tears. But then he was gone, and Lance felt emptier than before.

Someone reached over and yanked the knife from his chest, his entire body lifting with it, as if he didn’t want to part with the one part of Keith that would be with him when he left.

And he didn’t want to leave.

He really, really didn’t want to leave.

He wanted to carry Pidge to bed once more after finding them passed out near their work. He wanted to listen to Hunk rave about Altean mechanics and Earthen food during their midnight escapades to the kitchen.

He wanted Shiro to hug him again and tell his he was okay and he wanted to have those three am chats with Allura about how much they missed home.

He wanted Coran to show him Earth again.

He wanted to see the ocean and Veradero and he wanted to see his baby sisters first day of third grade and he wanted his abuela’s pastelitos and he wanted to hold his new nephew, born while he was away fighting a war no one knew about.

He wanted to see the sky and the earth and the water and he wanted to feel a fresh breeze on his face, surrounded by his team and his family, back home.

He wanted to see Keith smiling and happy.

He didn’t want the last memory of his first and last love to be one mixed with so much blood and so many tears.

He just … he just …

It was a quick flash, like a screen shutting off, like the black before GAME OVER popped up on screen. He was there. Then he wasn’t, the crowds of prisoners and nobles and soldiers roaring above him for a quick second.

And then it was like a blink.

But the scene before him didn’t come back. And, in that split second between his loss of vision and whatever came next, all he could hear was the screech of voices, the thundering of clapping hands and stomping feet, and the broken, cracked, raw voice of someone calling out his name.

And then, alone, with no one to comfort him – and then, with a cold ache in his soul – and then, with a pierced heart and eyes that were tearing up – and then with – and then he – and then -

And then it was there, in the Galran arena that Lance Espinoza-McClain died.

**Author's Note:**

> check me out on tumblr @kyoshu-koi, we can cry about this together.


End file.
